Finally in Maine

It has been a while since we posted and we're now safe in Belfast, Maine where we'll spend the winter.

On Mon Sept 26th we sailed out of Neddy harbour leaving Randy, Karen and Capt J after promising them we'd be in sight for some hours...we were. A long slow beat out of the entrance took all of the afternoon and into the evening. By the time we cleared the tide had changed and we spent a frustrating few hours off Rocky Harbour trying to get into clean water before finally giving up and motoring away.

The wind arrived and we headed on "south" taking several days to get within distance of the entrance to the Bras D'Or Lakes. As ever with these things our arrival was too late for the ingoing tide and a stiff headwind didn't help. We thought of anchoring outside but the weather was due to go south that night and we'd be too exposed for comfort. But the anchorage immediately inside the Lakes is also open to the south as well so we'd have to go on. We beat through the narrow channel under reefed main and staysail, helped by the engine. Progress was reasonable, if at times scary, against a powerful ebb. We plugged on. And on. Approaching the Seal Island Bridge the ebb goes into turbo drive and with .7 of a mile to go our speed at one point slowed to such an extent that we were looking at TWO hours before we got through. Luckily whatever was happening there eased off and we made better progress, got through and looked forward to a beat against a weakening ebb. Instead the wind died and carried on motoring to Big Harbour for the night. Distance from the outside entrance to the anchorage - 14 miles; time taken 8 hours

The following morning we sailed off the anchor and moved slowly down the harbour wondering when our friend George, who has a summer house there, had left. Bee happened to look behind to see a small boat pursuing us and so we found George. He'd seen us at anchor, hollered at us from the bank and unable to make us hear, rushed around to the cove where we'd sheltered from a hurricane last year, jumped in his dinghy, rowed out to the boat and chased after us. He greeted us and said "I guess you've come in to hide from the hurricane" What hurricane! True to form the Canadian weather people give no hurricane warnings until 3 days before it's due to arrive which ain't a lot of time in a small boat to find somewhere. (This one in fact passed a long way off so little was felt where we were). We spent the day with George and Hughes; gratefully returned the charts to Henry Fuller who, on seeing me, instructed me to get in his car as he'd been told to do something. He drove away from the yard and straight to the liquor store and presented a boggle eyed crew with two boxes of wine, courtesy of Robin and Jac who recognise a dry ship and don't like it! What a pair.

A day sail took us to the Canal where we stayed for a week as a strong northerly was coming through and even the Lakes has 40-50knots promised. On the canal all was calm but the approach was a mass of heaving water and we were glad not to be offshore.

Inside the Bras D'Or Lakes not far from the canal

The Sydney - Port Aux Basque ferry was cancelled for 3 days with 60 knot winds and 11 metre seas forecast, effectively marooning Russ and Alison in Newfoundland. But we had the chance to spend time with another great couple, Jack and Glenda, who have be-friended us over the years, and help on the rebuilding of the house and barn they have. The barn, believed to be around 200 years old had a sagging roof, bulging walls and, in the view of the local council, was ready to be knocked down. Jack, thankfully, is one of those people who have no understanding whatsoever of the word "Can't" and was simply going to begin restoring it. It is the oldest documented building in St Peters so has some history. He'd already done a lot of support work and with a 5 part block and tackle, a tractor and a bit of old bobstay chain we soon had the roof straight and beams fastened up to support the roof.

The barn after we'd lifted the hogged roof

A few days of working on the house followed before the winds moderated and switched to a favourable direction. At 7 am on Monday October 10th we headed off from the canal saying a sad farewell to these lovely folks. I have said this before but it does bear repeating. It is not the gales etc that are hardest but the farewells.

The day started well with far more wind than predicted but eased toward nightfall. A bright moonlit night saw us in a lumpy sea but moving well. We passed Halifax in daylight bound for the Mahone Bay, hopefully before the wind died, and another visit to friends. The wind didn't die and we took the decision to make use of it and keep heading west. It did ease around 2am but as the self-steerer was coping we weren't too bothered. But as daylight came on the thought of stopping for the night seemed increasingly attractive and we pulled into Shelburne. A big mistake of course as we could have used those easterlies to make a Maine landfall. On the plus side we caught with friends the Christies of Windward Flutes fame  see their site here.

and Paul Gartside link here

We left on Tuesday 18 Oct and sailed down the bay to Cape Negro Island for the night and then motored down to Brazil Rock to pick up the west going current the following day. The forecast was for 30 knot easterlies followed by a quick switch to 30 knot S or SW winds. Well it came and we sailed through some very lumpy seas, a number of which were determined to come aboard. Hannah is such a stable platform that we rarely wear safety harnesses but this trip was the second time we felt it might be prudent. We pushed on westwards rather than NW in anticipation of the switch and it paid off. When the wind came in hard we were well placed and roared on into the night. Lobster pots could be heard banging against the hull as they were brushed aside in the 7 knot romp and as we turned more beam to the wind the seas smashed against the hull dumping green water into the cockpit and across the deck.

Rockland Harbour

Although the route up to Belfast was more off the wind and thus easier I opted to sail into Rockland Harbour and anchor for the night leaving ourselves a great sunny day of sailing to reach what we feel is our home port. We have always had a good relationship with the Customs and Border Agency in Maine and the guy who booked us in this time took things to a new high when he carefully listened to our request for a longer visa than the usual 6 months and happily gave us over 9 months! It pays to ask I guess and it'll make leaving Maine easier, at least in terms of weather windows.

We had been pondering what we'd do about the winter and the fact that we really needed to haul out and paint.Various options were thought about but the deciding factor was always going to be cost. 

Early morning and the sea smoke rises...

A few days into our stay in Belfast we were offered a wonderful option from Alex and so here we are. As we wouldn't be hauled for some weeks we opted to spend a week or so cruising Penobscot Bay. If you have never sailed here but hope to do so then you have one of the premier cruising grounds awaiting you. Anchorages abound, hidden behind picturesque islands. If the wind is heading you well then go somewhere different and the wonder of it all is the thick mud that awaits your anchor. Maine has some of the best anchorages we have ever used and at this time of the year there are few boats and not too many pots. We had bitterly cold days; we had bright sunny cloudless sky days.

We left the main tied up and cruised gently under mizzen and a couple of heads'ls, content to sail at whatever speed we achieved - anything from 3 - 6knots+. All local anchorages and anything  from 10 - 15 miles apart. A leisurely breakfast, sail off the anchor and pootle along toward the destination for the day. A glorious sail through the Fox Island Thoroughfare, an area we had somehow missed in other travels. At the end of the day we'd anchor and sit around a warm fire rejoicing in our amazing lifestyle. A wonderful week.Back in Belfast we were hauled and chocked for the next few months. Well more than a few as we probably won't paint until April and then ...Who knows.

 

So this is our home for the next 6 months. The plan is to build a shelter over the boat to keep the elements off us and allow some if not all of the prep work to be done over winter. With temperatures dropping to 20F or -something C  living in a concrete hull may get to be chilly. The shelter will improve the temperature by 20 degrees or so and stop the bitterly cold wind from sapping our energy. Then yesterday we were given notice that a major storm was on its way and would possibly hit this part of Maine in the early hours. Some folks scoffed, some didn't.....................

 

Question: Why are Newfoundlanders happy to die and go to heaven?

                              Answer: ‘cos they’re going home...

And here we are back at Shelburne in the home of the wonderful and generous Forbes and Yola, having had the best summer cruising ever. So much to enthuse about, so many photos to share..

We did say that we were off to the Azores and as we left Trepassey, with its wonderful librarian Patsy, made our way around Cape Race and onto the east coast of Newfie that was certainly our intention. We met up with some Dutch friends in Ferryland, waved them goodbye as they left for St Johns and a day or so later we headed out to sea en route for the Azores. Beset by doubts.... Were we doing the right thing? Should we continue with the plan or use the opportunity to explore more of this wonderful coastline. Luckily the wind was light, we were hardly moving and faced with a first night at sea drifting around we opted to head back to harbour and set off again the following day. But we didn’t leave the next day for the Azores but chose to stay in Newfoundland. A great choice as it happens, and no regrets at all.

                                                                                                                                                                      Up the east coast we sailed toward St Johns. Now we had no interest in the town but felt we needed to check in with the authorities as we’d last assured them we were only here for a couple of weeks.

Through the fog we sailed, marvelling at the hundreds of thousands of auks and puffins we encountered. At times it seemed like the marine equivalent of Trafalgar Square, with pigeons replaced with sea birds. There are a couple breeding grounds, islands that are now nature reserves and here birds rule and humans are spectators to their antics.

 
With the fog around we didn’t see as much as we’d hoped but even so were a little startled to hear us being hailed on the VHF; a nearby tourist whale watching boat asking if we’d spotted any whales in our travels, as he needed to show his punters. We had of course, though several miles back, though they could be anywhere by now. It’s the fine mist the whale exhales that alerts the watchers to their presence, that and the strong fishy smell that accompanies said breathing, but in the fog the mist breath is invisible.  I can tell you that having one of these huge creatures surface about 5metres/15 feet from Hannah and breathing out gives you an enormous shock and certainly stops any day dreaming.

Approaching St Johns we called Coastguard Traffic to warn them of our presence, casually slipping in that we do not have radar.

  Listening to their broadcasts to inbound/outbound ships we pondered on the fact that whilst they warned them of our existence they didn’t feel it necessary to let them know we were blind. About a mile from the harbour the reason became very clear. Literally, as the fog had disappeared and bright sunshine prevailed.

The entrance to this fine harbour is known as “The Narrows” for obvious reasons, very photogenic but it looked at bit crowded as a Canadian CG vessel came out and we opted to hang about outside until they rang us to gently inform us that we were hove to on their route...

St Johns. Well, like Stornaway in the Hebrides, it worked its spell on us. Tied up to a pontoon with our Dutch friends, the town is within walking distance and whilst the charging structure for boats is innovative ($5.99 a day with a minimum of 5 days levied) it represents great value. OK there is no water or electric available but a matter of metres away from the dock head we were entertained by bands and Shakespearean plays. The harbour authorities came down whilst we were visiting Customs, who were happy to let us remain in the country but unable to provide an answer to our question of whether we would be liable to pay tax on any home brewed booze we brought in on board Hannah the next time around, claiming that no one had ever asked that before. I can’t think why.

We spent 5 days in St John’s and made several new friends. There is a tiny harbour to the north called Quidi Vidi which, amongst its attributes is a fine brewery. Chatting to a local tour boat ended up with us meeting Patric and Karin who live aboard a boat at the brewery and they, in turn introduced us to Steve. Sailors all and fine folks. Other visitors included a press photographer, a variety of Brits either on holiday or living there and the husband of Clio Smeeten who is, of course the daughter of Miles and Beryl. And then one afternoon we were below decks when we heard someone fall against one of the lines and went up on deck. Some yards away 3 guys in their early twenties were trying to get photos of themselves with Hannah as a backdrop. They came over to apologise as their enthusiasm or drunkenness had persuaded them that getting on deck would be a neat thing. They turned out to be some of Canada’s finest, serving aboard a recently docked warship. As they were leaving to traverse the North West Passage in a few days and the ship was throwing a party for invited guests they were insistent that we should come on the grounds that if we’d crossed oceans in Hannah we must be proper sailors and they felt sure their captain would/should meet us and “learn how its done.....”  It coincided with a meal we’d arranged for Patric and Karin so we doubted whether we would make it. They took this on board, as only the very drunk can, and duly reappeared several hours later clutching invites meant for some of the nubile women of the city. Alas for all concerned our get together on Hannah went on longer than that of the warship Toronto and we never got to give the long suffering captain the dubious benefits of our experience.

We headed north, tried to anchor in a small cove called Heartbreak before plugging onto a harbour. The fisherman we chatted to as we tied up alongside smiled as he told us that these places have a reason for their names..... His wife gave us a fresh home baked loaf and we headed out the following day for Irelands Eye. Newfoundland abounds with great anchorages, the majority of which are deserted, not just of boats but very often houses as well. Sometimes a smattering of cabins can be seen, small single storey buildings for summer use, often neglected but still usable and all a reminder of an earlier life. Each anchorage had its own characteristic but joined together by this feeling of solitude.

We moved slowly up the east coast, crossing Trinity, Bonavista  and Notra Dame Bays. We by passed Twillingate, apparently known as the Iceberg Capital of the world to anchor in, yet another, Deadmans Cove. It was a warm, sunny August day and to sea could be seen the billowing white sail of a huge ship....but it wasn’t of course just a lonely and large iceberg drifting around gradually melting into the sea. Sadly the only one we were to see this trip.

As we made our way west and north we ventured close to the town of Lewisport and were shaken to see 3 other yachts at the same time which was as many as we’d seen since leaving the French Islands.... An anchorage we slid into had another boat already there and the next day another boat followed us into our choice for the night. In both these spots the Lewisport Yacht Club had felt it necessary put down mooring buoys for visitors...Time to move further north!

One of the major advantages we’ve had on this trip is the American VHF our mate Cary gave us, as this gives access to local weather on very frequent basis. It was on one of these broadcasts that we heard the news that we were soon to experience 40 knot winds, our first warning that Hurricane Bill was on its way. We made our way into a small harbour called Fleur de Lys for a few days until it passed (with a whimper for us, thankfully) and then moved onto the final coast, a long, pointing neck of land that heads up SE toward Greenland and once rounded would set us south and mark the end of this particular bit of the cruise. Firstly though we sailed over to Fourchou, a long, steep sided fiord that house the remains of Newfoundlands last whaling station. We anchored off the old settlement, gravestones reflecting in the setting sun and ate a contemplative meal surrounded by silence. The anchorage is exposed to a slight swell and we’d had to anchor in deepish water to avoid drifting back onto a clearly visible rock garden. Bee, feeling that we stood a chance of seeing the Northern Lights, opted to read after we went to bed whilst I settled down to sleep. A strange bang alerted us and we got up to investigate what we believed to be the chain snagging on an underwater rock. By torch nothing could be seen off the bow and the chain showed no sign of snatching. Stranger still Toots, who had been on deck sleeping under the dinghy had not come out to investigate with us. I wandered back and shone the torch over the stern to see a very frightened Toots, eyes like chapel hat pegs, clinging desperately to the rudder blade of our self-steerer. Her front legs were wrapped in a death squeeze around that slim bit of wood and she was not letting go. Neither of us know how it happened but my call of alarm had Bee from one end of the boat to the other and over the side clinging to the self-steering struts as she made a grab for one very wet, skinny, clearly terrified Toots who showed no resistance to being bundled into a towel and dried off. That water is cold and Bee’s idea that we should have some form of line she can attach to herself so she can fling herself overboard was not met with approval. The only saving grace to this whole episode, aside from Toots still being with us, is the effect upon her coat which is shiny and smooth. Like me her fur had become slightly “dreadlocky” so she hasn’t been at her best!

Further north we sailed to roughly the same latitude as London although much cooler and when, in late August, a local warned us that autumn was arriving we swallowed and thought we should make plans to head south soon. We decided to head in Griquet (pronounced Gricket) to wait out some northerlies that were coming through. The only chart for this place seems to be an old French one that we don’t have. The electronic ones we have show no soundings at all and the only reason we attempted it was the new guide to Newfoundland has a copy of the chart and a line indicating the best way in. It involves rounding an island before picking up the channel. The weather was lumpy outside  and we doused sail at the entrance and made our way intending to leave the island to starb’d. But some memory made me question my decision and we rounded up into the wind whilst Bee went below and found the relevant page and found we should actually leave it to port. The following day a figure appeared on the jetty and entertained us with his story of how, from the veranda of their summer house they had watched with shock as a boat had actually come in from the sea (the waves were pretty impressive from the shore) and their shock had turned to horror as the boat had begun to go the wrong way and then suddenly turned. Their first thought had been we’d lost power; followed very closely by the picking up the phone and about to ring the coastguard.......

From Griquet we headed north into a lumpy and very uncomfortable sea for a narrow tickle called Quirpon (Carpoon). As so often with these situations the shelter of land changes the nature of the seas and we experienced wonderfully calm water. An outgoing fisherman assured us we could pass either side of the buoy and we entered into a tranquil and lovely area. Unfortunately we needed to push on as the next tropical storm was heading our way and we wanted to use the easterlies to get down the infamous Belle Isle Strait. And so it was. This was to be our first long, serious trip for some time and coupled with a forecasted 30 knots plus had a quite unnecessary effect of turning my bowels to water. But once we got going and settled into our routine it is surprising how calm and clear we become. The journey turned out to be easier than we’d imagined and as each day came along we kept pushing south knowing that soon the wind would switch to the SW, the direction we were heading, and we’d need to seek shelter. We chose to do so in Beach Point, a small summer community that was deserted and arrived about 8am one morning.

 The entrance is narrow, perhaps 15-20 metres and the swell was beginning to run into the entrance. A bar across the harbour cuts down the swell entering but also gave me a bit of a turn as we swept in with wind and following sea and the depth beneath the keel began dropping rapidly to 3 feet (don’t you just love this mixture of imperial and metric we fling about!) Once in we were faced with turning the boat in a very confined space with a gusting wind in order to tie alongside a fishing boat. Took several attempts but we were safe in and we headed for some much needed kip. Only to woken a few hours later by voices – the crew for the fishing boat.....luckily they weren’t going out as the wind and seas had risen but were simply doing a bit of maintenance. We went back to bed.

 
We spent a day or so there and then headed out to make it down to Nova Scotia or as much as possible before the next wind shift. Opting to by-pass the Bras D’Or Lakes we made decent progress passing Cape Breton and onto Nova Scotia. As the wind turned against us we made a rapid decision to pull into a nearby anchorage to wait a more favourable slant. The following evening we headed out into a very lumpy sea left over from the gusty SW wind that had blown. We struggled to get through the channel and spent a couple of hours beating until the  wind, as forecast, switched to the north and we were away. Shelburne was a couple of nights away and the first night slipped by as kept up the speed. But with 40 miles to go the wind speed suddenly increased well beyond the 20 knots forecast and the seas seemed to come from all direction. A very uncomfortable night. Approaching Shelburne we peered anxiously up the harbour expecting/hoping to see a familiar boat but nothing. We anchored and rode ashore having been hailed by Paul Gartside with a “Welcome Home” and met up with Forbes and Yola who instantly put a large and very hot shower at our disposal. Which brings us back to where we were a couple of postings back.

 Robin and Jac, whose boat we expected to see on our arrival, we find are now behind us having to deal with a family problem back in Europe

 So there it is, 3 months and a couple of thousand miles in a few thousand words. Newfoundland is an island of contrasts held together by the people

 It’s been several weeks since I wrote this up and we are now back in Belfast and soon to be heading back down to Portsmouth, Virginia. The trip across from Shelburne proved uneventful although the prospect of strong SE winds had us sliding into a better protected harbour before Belfast. A quick radio call to Kathy, Belfast’s Harbourmaster, had her alerting the Customs and they duly cleared us in without a problem. In fact after he listened to our story about the difficulties of leaving the US in March he granted us an 8 month stay rather than a 6 month one thereby removing one enormous worry about our departure date for next year.

The trip across also gave us a wonderful opportunity with a wind battered kestrel that had been blown out to sea. It alighted on the mizzen sheet and balanced precariously there, inches from my head. Whilst attempting to seek better shelter it was blown backwards and fell into the sea, recovered and flew back onto the sheet but closer to the furled sail where it recovered for several minutes, watching us closely through bright eyes. At some point it must have felt sufficiently recovered to make another attempt at leaving but soon realised its mistake, wheeled and appeared to dive into the side of the boat. We couldn’t see any sign of it in the water and felt it must have hit the hull and gone under. Happily the following morning it hopped out from under the dinghy and flew off having spent a quiet, sheltered night getting its breath back. Thankfully for all concerned Attila the Claw was not on duty that night so the kestrel was left in peace.

And then a few days ok I was below when I heard the murmur of voices followed by a hefty “ Anyone on board” and came up to find Mike and Eilean stood on the jetty with big grins on their faces! We’d last seen them thousands of miles away on another continent – I mean C’mon how many times in your life are you going to be able say - "We haven’t seen you since Senegal"!!

Too many goodbye’s for comfort...

We left Cary’s jetty in very heavy rain, not helped by an emotional and tearful farewell. With the weather forecasting favourable winds for a couple of days we felt if we didn’t move we’d get stuck both emotionally and weather wise so we headed off into a miserable day. Initially the wind stayed with us and we made reasonable progress down the Bay but as the day drew toward evening the wind died and we made slow progress north. If there is one word that, for us, sums up the east coast of the US it’s “volatile”. Because it is. We’ve lost count of the number of intense electrical storms we’ve either been part of or close to. The journey north was no exception as storms came off the coast, illuminating whole tracts of sky but luckily for us they were either ahead or astern of us and heading out to sea. Had we been heading for the Azores of course we wouldn’t have been so “smug” but sometimes you win, sometimes.. We’d listened to the weather channel on the VHF. Strong wind warnings were being given and as we had a lot of sail up we thought we’d reef well down. To windward of us lay a big expanse of black sky, billowing cloud, and general nastiness. Minutes after we’d reefed and dumped the jib we were hit, without any prior warning, by a huge slab of wind. We had gone below and suddenly felt Hannah roll hard to starboard! Bee honestly thought we were sinking the motion was so violent and sudden. We rushed on deck but the worst had already gone through and Hannah had righted herself, pulling the starb’d rail from under the water and was moving steadily on. I’ve said before that Hannah is such a stable boat that we don’t, in our mate Geoff’s terms, do “tipping” so the wind strength must have been around 50+knots.

We toyed with the idea of heading up through the East River and using Long Island Sound to anchor and proceed at a more leisurely (!) pace but we’d need to get the tides right for the entry into NYC and also Bee had concerns about being in the big city with out of date paperwork so we plugged on and eventually made Point Judith about 4 days after leaving the Bay. (Point Judith stands between Long Island Sound and the Buzzards Bay/Martha’s Vineyard area.) Temperature was noticeably colder, particularly at night but generally more comfortable for us. The great thing about this anchorage is you’re ignored and going ashore is not an option unless you head up river and into the towns. We moved a little further up Buzzards Bay the following day, anchoring in a sheltered cove before heading on up to the Cape Cod Canal. We had intended anchoring for the night but at the last moment opted to get closer to the canal, anchor and wait for the tide to stop running so hard. In the end I got that wrong leaving an hour earlier than we should and took several hours to transit the 7 or 8 miles which, with the tide running hard with you takes about 40 minutes. Light winds greeted us on the northern side and we got into P’town about 2am, briefly considering heading on to NS.

The following morning was grey and windy with a strong SW’ly. Leaving the anchorage with a single reef was effective but as we cleared the peninsula we reefed down again before finally dropping the main and cruising blissfully on under mizzen and heads’ls as speeds were exceeding 8 knots and 7 knots felt more comfortable. We’d battened down but were horrified or more likely pissed off to discover that we had a leak in our doghouse where some of the adhesive had come adrift. Why on earth we couldn’t have discovered this when we were happily settled with Cary who’s experience would have been invaluable. Aah well. Off the coast and amongst the shipping lanes we spotted breaching whales throwing themselves about but a defunct camera means you’ll have to take our word for it!

 We were hell bound for Shelburne as R & J had promised a delivery of Marmite and all the way across we had visions......

A passing Canadian Coast Guard ship called us up to check on what we were up to, their attitude and demeanour so very different from their US counterparts. But the easy passage was about to come to an end as the fog began to form. The wind kept up, the current stayed with us and so we sped on at 6-7knots peering out into the white blanket that surrounded us. Not a situation we enjoyed and in ordinary circumstances we would slow down but we were approaching Cape Sable where the tide runs hard and we wanted to get far enough past before it turned against us. However, as the day wore on and daylight, such as it was, faded life became more complicated. True we could (and should) have slowed down but for the reasons above we kept on. Religiously we came on deck to check around every ten minutes but even so Bee got the shock of her life when on her next look around  a drifting fishing boat was visible less than 100 metres away and slightly off to port! The fear could be felt throughout Hannah and we spent the rest of the night on an almost continual watch-a wet and miserable experience for both of us. Periodically we’d give out our position on the VHF and received a friendly call from a passing ship who reassured us that the only signal visible to them on radar was a weak signal some 2.5 miles ahead of the position we’d transmitted. Luckily we realised from the lat/long he gave us that he was actually picking us up and the coast ahead was clear. Through the night we ran and began closing the NS coast. The fog stuck with us and despite using buoys as waypoints to guide us in we didn’t see a single one before we made the harbour of Shelburne. Back in Portsmouth we’d fitted an AIS receiver, which picks up a signal from ships and displays their name, course, and speed within a specified radius on a screen. And whilst not all ships carry them, certainly few fishing boats, we’ve been very pleased with the help it has given us so far.

Shelburne. What can we say? From a sailing viewpoint it is such an easy entry, wide open, safe and, for the most part, good shelter. Although it’s a Port of Entry no custom officials work there and have to come from Halifax - some 3 hours away by road. 

 They arrived, cleared us in and were on their way back about 15 minutes later. The Yacht Club hadn’t changed much although our favourite person at the club had moved on and after a night on the pontoon we moved out to an anchorage between the Dory Shop and the Barrel Factory and opposite the road Forbes and Yola our friends live in.

We met them 4 years ago, they’d spotted us again whilst we on the pontoon awaiting clearance, were so pleased to see us and very welcoming - giving us the run of the house. We’ve been here 2 weeks now awaiting the arrival of some packages from the UK. The 3 packages came from that duo of reprobates, Robin and Jackie, who dispatched some much needed Marmite for the coffers. Having said that on her first foray into the local supermarket Bee, making her usual beeline for the reduced section, had found 5 small bottles for 99cents each and then came the arrival of a further 1700 grams and then a further 7 bottles from Forbes and Yola. 

 So Marmite stocks are looking good for the moment...So besides awaiting parcels we also got involved with Forbes and Yola and their flute business and a house renovation project for a boat designer, Paul Gartside, who had recently moved across from British Columbia In between Bee has managed to get in a bit of gardening –too much like hard work for me - and hunt down every charity shop in town.

But the time came to move on, yet another sad farewell as we said goodbye to the Forbes and Yola. They’d made us more than welcome, entertained and fed us and besides being very nice people make the most wonderful flutes. 

It is one of the amazing things about this life how we can get involved in people’s lives and businesses enjoying the variety and challenge and then just move on and meet more people.

The trip along the coast of NS was good. We picked our weather, made good and, for us, new anchorages and took the time to cruise up the Le Havre river which was wonderful. Scenic and sheltered, at times remote it is so often passed by as yotties push on for the “delights” of Bras D’Or as we did last time. 

We spent time anchored off Dave and Mary Fran’s boathouse, a couple we’d met in Lake Worth last year but as we dropped the anchor a voice hailed us from the bank and offered us the use of a nearby dock. He was the owner of a shipyard and had never met us before. We stayed put as the mud was good and we had plenty of water. Bridgewater, the local town, is a good place to stock up – the supermarket getting Bee’s seal of approval and we managed to get Toots her annual Rabies jab. As we were waiting for the appointment who should come out of the room but Forbes with one of their cats!! Talk about surprise. And of course we met up with Yola later who’d just had a cataract operation but, knowing my reluctance to hear details, thankfully spared us the slice by slice account.

With a favourable wind we pushed on up the coast stopping at Rogues Roost, apparently one of THE places to anchor. The northern part is very rocky but the southern niche was mud but quite small. We hadn’t been there long when another boat came in...a small power-boat with a guy from Manchester on board but he only stopped for a few minutes, shared his champagne and headed back home.

Ever onwards but the light in Rogues Roost had pushed us into camera mode and we headed for Halifax for a two day stopover. The weather had swung round to the east with rain and we used to the time to tramp the streets looking for the one we wanted. Many hours and footsore miles later we returned tired and successful.

Over several days we made our way toward Cape Breton and finally reached St Peter’s on June 10. Easy passage through the canal and we spent the night tied to the canal edge on the lake side. Got taken, by a local, to view a wooden boat he wanted to rescue – seems like a lot of hard work to me, particularly as he is doing up a house at the same time but Jack thrives on challenge so no doubt when we next go through he’ll have completed both!

Ever since we were last here we have talked about one of favourite anchorages - Cape George where we anchored in such a way as to be able to climb into the dinghy and onto the shore without rowing at all. As we approached we viewed the new houses we could see around with dread and sure enough the entrance to the tiny bay now has 3 houses facing it. True the bay itself was untouched, although a stroll along a track shows that some logging and land clearing has started as yet another place gets a summer home. Such a shame.

Despite Jack’s assurance that fog rarely gets into the Lakes we awoke to find thick fog everywhere and we waited patiently for it to clear. As the wind was due to go north the following day we decided to leave as soon as visibility improved and so set off with viz about ½ mile, a bit of rain and a small breeze. We called ahead to ensure we’d be able to get the bridge opened and eventually motored to push us on a bit. Going through the bridge we were swung one way then another as the current bounced off the piers supporting the structure. At one point we were a metre from colliding with the thing but slid through with a smiling bridge-keeper above us enthusiastically commenting on Hannah’s looks to us. Approaching Baddeck I chose a short cut but a combination of strongly gusting wind, fog, water that was rapidly getting shallower and the inability to correctly identify the channel through made me decide that we’d better go the long way round. Bee worked miracles and dropped the main with speed as we came round and headed into deeper water. Into the harbour in torrential rain to anchor in the same spot we had four years previously. Ahh the bliss of a wood stove and a glass of wine.

Tomorrow we push onto the south coast of Newfoundland and a hoped for rendezvous with Rick and Karen on Wanderbird.

Links:

www.windwardflutes.com

www.gartsideboats.com
www.wanderbirdcruises.com